A/N: Hello again, everyone! Sorry if I've been slow lately with this chapter as well as the previous chapters. Writer's block sucks—I've said this before, and I'm totally not afraid to repeat it. Again, I'm still taking one day at a time, hoping—and praying—for the better of things as time passes.

The chapter takes place on Monday, October 6th.

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds.

Previously on Criminal Minds…

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just really tired."

"He had his meds an hour ago."

"Yeah, post-op antibiotics."

"Carbenicillin? No, that's not right. I have a severe reaction to beta-lactams."

"What are you doing? What are you doing? GARCIA! HE HAS A GUN! [...] You saved my life."

"Hey, you're okay. You're okay."

Spencer woke up from his bedside and yawned, stretching his long limbs and massaging the left side of his neck, and ran down to his shoulder. That damn kink barely went away, and it's been three-four months since that…terrifying shooting that nearly left him on death's door. Getting up from the bed, he placed his hands on his hips, arched back a little, and groaned as he stretched again.

He blinked hard when making his way to the bathroom and ran cold water over his face. Afterward, he positioned his hands on the sink, smacking his mouth and licking his lips, and took a good look at himself in the mirror.

Only to gasp horrifically when he saw the surgical patch on his neck.

"Whoa!"

Spencer shot up and frantically checked his neck. He sighed in tremendous relief when he realized that there was no patch, bandage, nothing. Having his hand over his heart, he took some Zen-like deep breaths.

"Spence…" Élise grumbled, wiggling herself in bed and sat up. She flung her sleep mask over her head and squinted her eyes again. "Mmm…" when she came to her thought, she patted her hand on Spencer's shoulder. "You had a bad dream…"

Spencer scratched his eyelashes and pinched his nose bridge with his thumb and index finger. "Texas…"

Élise pressed her hand on her forehead. "Do you think you talk about it with the bureau therapist before work?"

"Yeah, maybe," Spencer caressed his neck and pecked Élise's lips.

Being in Dr. Linda Merrill's office almost reminded him of being in Dr. Vera Truman's office. Except Dr. Merrill's office walls color was a tea green. A fitting color for a therapist's room and extra comforting since Spencer had a large cup this morning. A large modern cube dark walnut bookshelf was the same material as most of her office furniture.

He and the good doctor sat across from each other in her brown leather armchairs with a freeform-styled coffee table separating the two.

Dr. Merrill stacked her hands over each other after telling her about his nightmare about Texas. "It's often common to have these kinds of nightmares."

"I know."

Dr. Merrill went on. "Except you were shot in the neck. And then one of your teammates, Penelope Garcia, saved you from another chance at death. You took time off to recuperate from the experience."

"It was nice not to have to think about that while I was on mandatory leave," Spencer admitted. "Still, I can't help but still feel a little…different."

"We change every day; we just don't notice. Think about it."

Dr. Merrill's words will definitely have Spencer thinking about it for quite some time.

Élise watched her security team place her brand-named luggage in the back of the Suburban from the foyer window. She then closed and smoothed the curtain blinds and reached the front door. She heard footsteps behind her, and it was Spencer standing there.

"I should be back Thursday morning, but if anything, I'll call, okay?"

Spencer shook his head before seeing Séraphine and Rose coming out of the kitchen. Isaac and Opal were playing in the living room and watching Sesame Street.

"I'm ready!" Séraphine hopped, her bag secured on her back.

"You got your lunch?" it was a BLT club sandwich (with the crust cut off), kettle potato chips, berries, and lavender lemonade.

"Uh-huh!" Séraphine shook her head. "Come on! Come on! I wanna go to school!" she took her parents by their hands after one of Élise's agents opened the front door.

"Just like her old man," Spencer replied to Élise, who smirked in return.

When he got to work, Spencer sensed something was wrong with Garcia. Even just stepping off the elevator, there wasn't any of her usual Garcia greetings nor asked about the kids or Élise. Secondly, when in the conference room, through the blinds, he witnessed Garcia leaving Hotch's office and even announced she was taking personal time off; Kevin Lynch would be presenting the case for the team and assisting them with whatever they needed while they were in Seattle.

Séraphine sat at her assisted table seat with her friends as Ms. Ortiz and Ms. Torres continued with today's lesson on learning numbers and how to say them in Spanish.

"What's this number, clase?" Ms. Ortiz held a large red poster of the number one with a single apple.

"One!" the toddles shouted in enthusiastic union.

"¡Muy bien!" Ms. Ortiz praised her young schoolchildren. "En español, it's uno. Say it with me. Uno."

The students repeated. "Uno!"

Landing at the Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport, Élise arrived at the Capital Hotel—a downtown landmark with a long history—to get herself settled down for a few hours before she was scheduled to meet the city's mayor and the president of the United States Conference of Mayors later today.

Since Séraphine was still at school and Isaac was probably taking his afternoon nap, she figured she would call Spencer. Only for him to hit her with some big news.

"Okay…what?" she whispered; Élise tried to wrap around in and mentally outside her head about what Spencer just told her.

Spencer feared the worst but repeated to Élise. "Garcia…"

Élise interrupted and had to stop him from finishing or repeating. "I heard you…I just…" She sat at the edge of her bed with her eyes closed and manicured fingers on her temples. "You mean to tell me Garcia went to Texas to see the piece of steaming s…crap…" she made a last-minute swap of words. "…That same piece of nothing that tried to kill you and her before the state could send him off to hell in a handbasket with dusted hands and a note attached to it?" she was trying really hard not to swear but was ready to.

"It doesn't take being a psychologist nor a psychiatrist that she has PSTD symptoms," Spencer replied.

Élise scoffed. "Still, why is she subjecting her glittery bleeding heart to that waste of space?"

"Come on, Lise, you know Garcia," Spencer sighed. "She carries a laptop, not a gun. She can't even look at crime scene photos without needing pictures of panda bears to counterbalance them. And you know how she is against the death penalty."

Élise reencountered with, "But she's taking this to a whole new level. I get why she's against the penalty, but I mean…come on! That bastard tried to kill you two. Does she not know that?"

"What Garcia going through reminds me a lot of Philip Dowd, the LDSK."

Élise knew the story and really didn't need a repeat of it. "And you know what finally made you stop obsessing over him? His victims: because they, too, had lives before he killed them, and he would have killed you or Hotch had you not stopped him. That woman needs to do the same," she was ready to do her usual Élise ranting when she got an alarm on her phone. "I have a meeting to get to, okay?"

"I love you."

Élise exhaled. "You, too."

By the following day, the team was called to another crime scene, only to be told of two earlier deaths relating to the unsub's M.O.

They came to the realization that the unsub is recreating the nine cycles of Dante's Inferno, thus, giving the profile.

Since that phone call from Spencer when he told her Garcia's in Texas right now to see the man who tried to kill the two, Élise knew she would have a hard time reaching her due to maximum security prisons not having any signal—she didn't want to leave any messages for her when it went to voicemail for the third time. She worried that if she did, Élise would say things she'll regret t; Garcia's quite sensitive to that.

Élise had to be at another event for the U.S. Conference of Mayors, so it was now or never for her. She got out her phone again, dialed Garcia's number, and held the phone to her ear.

"Oh, the Lord is my Shepard," Élise said to herself. "Please give me some strength…"

"Hello?" Garcia finally answered.

Élise hoped Garcia didn't notice her slight snarl. "Penelope…"

"Élise. Surprise to hear from you. You must have been calling my phone because usually, I would feel super-duper weird to answer unrecognizable numbers, but certainly what you do and how important it is…how ya doin'?"

With her eyes closed, Élise inhaled and exhaled. "Look, please don't be offended by what I'm going to say to you, but uh…" She couldn't take it anymore but hoped she wasn't loud enough for her security detail to hear her. "What the hell are you thinking? Seeing the revolting bag of repulsive garbage who almost killed you and your coworker, who happens to be my husband and the father of my children?"

"Look, I know you think it's crazy…"

Élise scowled, refusing to let her finish the sentence. "On a scale of one to ten on the crazy-as-hell meter, going to see that waste of space which, I'll repeat again, tried to kill you and Spencer, would have broken the scale beyond recognition."

"He needs to know I never meant for this to happen…"

Élise growled and planted her hand over her face. "Never meant for this to happen…wha…?" Stammering, Élise had to know if Garcia was really for real. "Penelope, he pleaded guilty to numerous other killings, forfeited a trial, and waived all appeals, and you actually want him to sit in a jail cell for the rest of his miserable life. There's a reason the governor is going for the death penalty."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, Élise. And it's not because I oppose the death penalty."

Élise groaned, lifting her head to face the ceiling. "How could it be more complicated than that? I…" She shut her eyes when she came to the insane realization. "Please…do not…tell me…you feel bad for him. Really? Of all people…him? You actually feel bad for this sad excuse of a human being? Over all the people he killed? Who had loved ones? Do you realize this? Are you getting it now? Is it starting to sink in!?"

Élise stopped herself. "You know what? I'm going to end this conversation with you right here because I'm really about to lose what religion and…sanity I have right now, and I'm not going to send my soul to hell for…goodbye," she hung on her abruptly. Élise was really on the verge of saying something she'd regret.

She had more pressing matters on her mind right now and refused to let this get to her. At least not until she got back to D.C.

A delusional accomplice led the team to the actual unsub, an AP high school English teacher by the name of Justin Leu, projecting his father onto his victims and saving one in the process.

On the flight home, Spencer watched how Morgan kept peering at his cell phone while looking out the window. No doubt it was about Garcia. He wondered about Élise after she had some words with her; he hadn't heard from his wife for the past few hours.

Élise, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about the way she'd laid it all out to Garcia. Sure, Garcia wears her heart on her sleeves a lot, and yes, she can be a little overly sensitive and can get emotionally invested at times. Still…

Spencer's words about Garcia really got Élise to think about the former's side of things. She's a technical analyst; she's not required to have a gun or be on the field unless it is indispensable. Also, she hates blood. And in order to balance what the team does and deals with on a daily basis, she needs to look at adorable pictures online.

"Élise?" A surprised Garcia allowed Élise to enter her apartment.

"Thank you," Élise stepped in after thanking Garcia and observed Garcia's very-her apartment. All these tiny trinkets and baubles, butterfly wall art, soft purple wall color, her vibrate bedding and door hangings, an old-school projector—they don't make them like they used to. "I…kinda expected this style from you."

Garcia blushed to herself. "It's very me: a little bit of old-school and new-school with my usual muffy-buffy-fluffiness," she had to ask. "Why are you here?"

Élise scratched behind her ears. "I, uh…wanted to apologize for how I was with you the other day. Was I upset that you went to see the man who tried to kill you and Spence? Yes. But after some time and thinking about what you went through with Spence, I should have thought about how you were feeling. I should have thought about how it was to be in your shoes. I mean, I know you hate blood with a passion, and you're all lovey-duvy who wants to see the good in people, and you see the world in rose-color glasses, and that's something you should never change about yourself. I can't thank you enough for saving Spence. And I…"

Élise was caught off when Garcia unexpectedly hugged her. And smiled to herself while hugging her back.

"You apologized to Garcia?" asked Spencer to Élise while the two were preparing dinner—roasted chicken with potatoes and a leafy salad. He was peeling the potatoes while Élise chopped the lettuce for the salad.

Élise added, "And gave her a big pink box of dozen-and-a-half macarons from Ladurée. It was the least I could do. Do I get why Garcia did it? No," she started as she turned on the faucet and washed the tomatoes. "But after being in her shoes, I started it." turning off the tap, she began dicing them.

"How were her shoes?" Spencer snickered.

Élise soon snickered as his phone vibrated. "About as fierce and savvy as her."

Spencer wiped his hands off any potato residue and threw the paper towel in the trash before he answered his phone. "Dr. Reid."

Élise cleaned the cutting board she used to chop the fruits and vegetables clean with the semi-wet washcloth and placed it in the sink; she wanted to wait until Spencer was finished with his phone call and judging by his facial expressions and how engaged and getting a bit excited by the hint in his voice in the conversation.

"Yes. Absolutely. Thank you. Enjoy your day," he hung up, and a smile appeared on his face. "We've been picked."

Élise's shocked expression and opened mouth formed a smile.

"Someone wants us to adopt their baby."

Overwhelmed with joy, the couple hugged and kissed.

A/N: To be continued for the last scene...